


Post-Run Scenes

by plingo_kat



Series: Push AU collection [2]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:50:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3272321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plingo_kat/pseuds/plingo_kat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Additional scenes set in the Run; I'm a Natural Disaster universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the (2nd) time they have sex

“Erik, Erik, slowly—” Charles pants, unable to stop his hips from rolling forward to press harder against Erik’s thigh, fingers clutching at the back of Erik’s head and along his shoulders. He whines as Erik bites him sharply on the collarbone, a reprimand, then whimpers as long fingers knead him roughly through the material of his slacks.

_Are you certain?_ Erik’s mind-voice is a low purr, seductive velvet overlaid with half-formed intentions of debauchery. Charles lets out a broken moan at the fantasy image of them together, Erik’s hands pressing bruises into his hips as Charles rides him, head thrown back and the long column of his throat exposed. _Do you really want to go slowly, Charles?_

Charles presses his arms harder into Erik’s shoulders and uses the leverage to wrap a leg around his waist.

“Erik,” he says again, barely enough breath to be heard. “I want – I want it to last, I want to feel you, make me, make me—”

“Beg?” Erik smiles, lips moving against the skin of Charles’ chest. He sucks a kiss right up above his nipple, tongue laving hard and pointed and the barest hint of teeth, an obscene wet smack as he pulls off. Charles makes a choked noise.

“Would you do it, I wonder?” Erik murmurs, lips tickling maddeningly, stubble on his chin rubbing against Charles’ nipple in something between pleasure and pain. “If I held you down, teased you, touched you but didn’t allow you to come? Would you beg me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Charles gasps. He’s already gulping air like he can’t control himself anymore, biting his lip so hard he almost breaks the skin. “Yes, please, Erik, _touch me_ \--”

“And what do you think I’m doing?” Erik pushes closer, aligns them chest to knees, all heavy weight and hot breath and dilated pupils, thin mouth red and quirked up at the corners.

Charles claws helplessly at Erik’s shirt, his _damned_ turtleneck that doesn’t have buttons Charles can just rip open, fisting his hands in stretchy cloth and pulling upwards.

“Off,” he demands, although it doesn’t sound all that much like an order when his voice cracks in the middle of the word.

Erik pushes against him again, just to be contrary, fabric warm and scratchy against Charles’ sensitive skin before pulling away to strip. Charles has to stare: at Erik’s ribs, which show when Erik raises his arms above his head, at the slow ripple of abdominal muscles, the sparse hair sprinkled around the top of his chest and the trail that leads down from his navel into the waistband of his pants.

Charles must make some sort of noise, because Erik’s eyes go dark and narrow and he snakes a hand around to press sweaty and low on Charles’ spine, pulling their hips together. The back of Charles’ head knocks against wood paneling as he loses the ability to control the muscles in his neck. And his legs.

“Bed?” Charles would be ashamed at the breathless quality in his voice if he hadn’t lost all his shame long ago, around the time that Erik grasped his wrists and pinned him against the wall.

“What a wonderful idea,” Erik says, baring his teeth. He thrusts again, just once, to make Charles moan at the pressure and friction of it, before he turns and walks away. “Coming?”

Charles’ knees wobble alarmingly when he first tries to stand, but soon he’s striding after Erik and undoing his belt and the buttons of his fly with surprisingly steady fingers. He kicks off both slacks and underwear by the time he reaches the bed and stands stupidly, awkwardly, struck dumb by the bared skin of Erik’s ass as the other man bends over to pull off his socks. God, Erik is beautiful.

It’s only after he registers heat under his fingertips that he realizes he’s reached out to touch, and then he can’t stop – running his hands over the curve of Erik’s ass, the dimple at the join of his thigh, coarse leg hair and the knob and dip of Erik’s tailbone takes up all his attention. He nearly falls over when Erik wraps a hand around his cock, and he definitely isn’t prepared enough to stifle the cry Erik’s touch causes.

“Impatient,” Erik chides as he circles his thumb and forefinger around the base of Charles’ cock, palm up. His other fingers are exploring lower, rolling Charles’ balls, high and tight, and Charles can’t stop his legs from spreading, from rocking back and forth just a little bit, enough to _feel_ the hold Erik has on him, leaking pre-cum over Erik’s wrist. 

“Greedy,” Erik adds, and Charles can feel a hint of laughter that doesn’t come through in purely verbal tones, which are all lust and gravel and perfect, dark desire.

“We should probably—“ Charles says, moving backward toward the bed. The mattress hitting the backs of his knees are a surprise and he sits down hard, nearly sprawling onto his back. “Oof.”

_Amusement_ , Charles feels again, and when he looks up this time that humor is reflected in Erik’s face, in the crinkling of skin at the corners of his eyes and the way his mouth twitches.

“Don’t laugh at me.” It’s impossible to keep up the façade of affront. Charles’ own laugh turns into a groan as Erik kneels -- _kneels_ \-- in front of his splayed legs and wraps long fingers around his calf.

“Really?”

Erik grins at him but doesn’t do anything but pull his socks off. Oh. He must have looked silly, just standing around naked except for his stockings.

“You could have said someth—mmph.”

Erik moves snake-fast up to capture his mouth and Charles opens willingly, letting their tongues tangle and breaths mix, hot and heavy. They fall back on the bed, naked, skin on skin at last and Charles is overwhelmed with it: he runs his hands over Erik’s shoulders, the smooth planes of his back, grabs handfuls of his arse and pulls him in, jerking when their cocks bump and rub. He trails fingers along the outside of Erik’s thighs and around to his front, teasing a peaked nipple and savoring the feeling of chest hair.

“ _Mein Gott,_ ” Erik groans. He’s alternating between sucking on Charles’ lower lip and licking into his mouth, stroking deep, in and out, matching the movement of his hips. Charles whines and tightens his grip.

Erik grunts, sounding almost in pain, and pulls away. His hair is disheveled, a sweaty lock falling over his forehead, eyes dark, thin mouth swollen and red.

“Tell me you have something,” he rasps, hands wandering low, fingers stroking back behind Charles’ balls in illustration of what he wants to do, making Charles buck. “Tell me I can fuck you.”

“I—“ says Charles, tossing his head back as Erik pushes into him, just a little, dry and uncomfortable and not nearly enough. “Yes, _yes,_ the—“ He scrambles for the bedside drawer and nearly elbows Erik in the face.

“Sorry,” he pants, and Erik rumbles in his ear; he takes that as acceptance of his apology. Erik is the one to pull the drawer open, calling the metal tin of Vaseline to them and twisting off the cap without once letting go of Charles’ hips.

“Show off,” Charles says, but it lacks any resemblance to a rebuke, breathless and eager.

“Now is that anything to say to me?” Erik grins, moving slick fingers up the back of his thigh and around his arse, teasing around his entrance. He nips at Charles’ neck.

“You—“ Charles starts, and has to break off, mouth working helplessly as Erik pushes _in_. It hurts, of course it does – it’s been _years_ since he’s had sex this way, but he arches back and tries to take Erik in deeper anyways. “Oh god, Erik, _more_ \--“

“Look at you,” Erik whispers, and when Charles drags his eyes open enough to see Erik’s face the man’s expression is reverent. Warmth blooms in Charles chest, entirely separate from the low heat in his belly, the sparks dancing up his spine.

“Beautiful.” The word is breathed into his skin, making him shiver. He clenches down around Erik’s fingers and admires the way Erik’s eyes darken; squirms, hips shifting and restless, and finally gasps out a demand for more.

“Do you want to—“ Erik makes a vague motion, indicating Charles turning around. Charles shakes his head and hooks a hand under his knee, splaying himself wide. Erik makes a noise low in his throat.

“ _Mein Gott,_ ” he says again, and runs his hand down Charles’ shin as he lines himself up. “My god, Charles, you are beautiful.” He presses a kiss against the inside of Charles’ knee. 

“Amazing.” Movement forward, and Charles bites his lip.

“Perfect,” Erik hisses as he slide in to the hilt, filling him up and splitting him open and tears prick at the corners of Charles’ eyes but it’s good, it’s all good, Erik so big inside of him that he feels like he can’t breathe. He makes a little hitching, gasping noise, and Erik grits his teeth and _holds_ , doesn’t move although the effort makes the tendons stand out starkly in his neck.

_”Charles.”_ His name is barely recognizable past the gravel in Erik’s voice.

_Wait,_ Charles mouths and thinks that perhaps he projects it too, but he isn’t sure. _Wait, it hurts and it feels good and Erik, Erik, Erik…_

Erik lets out a harsh noise and hunches forward, which moves his cock to touch a place that has Charles jerking like a bug pinned on a card, and he can practically feel Erik’s self-control snap.

Charles cries out at the first thrust, and the second, and by the third he’s just making pathetic mewling noises every time Erik moves, fingers scrabbling at Erik’s shoulders and down his back, projecting random bursts of pleasure and want and need.

Erik’s arm is an iron bar around his lower back, pulling him closer so that the both of them are practically sitting upright, Charles impaled on Erik’s cock. The angle only allows for short thrusts; Erik moves his hips with a grunt or a gasp every stroke in and out, and Charles wraps his legs around Erik’s waist and arches and the two of them fall back, the mattress bouncy enough that Erik is pushed even _deeper_ into him and Charles bows his back and possibly screams, but everything is lost to the white, silent burst of pleasure behind his eyes.

When he comes back to himself Erik is muttering in incoherent, broken strings of German, all _my love_ and _please_ and _I can’t—god, Charles, Charles_. He’s mouthing frantically at Charles’ shoulder in between gasps, fingers pressing into the skin of his hips tight enough to bruise.

“I—“ Charles whimpers, before an aftershock seizes him in its grip. _Yes. Yes, Erik, please, do it, come in me—_

Erik curls forward with a harsh grunt, muscles rock-hard and tight, and Charles feels warmth and wetness; he shivers with another aftershock and clenches down reflexively, and Erik makes a wounded noise.

They slump over.

Eventually Erik pulls out. It stings a little even though he’s careful, but Charles doesn’t care. He throws an arm over Erik and only lets him up once he realizes that the only thing on the other man’s mind is to get a warm washcloth and then come straight back to bed. After they clean themselves up – honestly, Erik does most of the work, Charles just rolls over when Erik tells him to – he wraps himself around the other man again, pulling the blanket up over the both of them.

“That was a long time in coming,” Charles observes, muffled in Erik’s shoulder. Erik’s hand cards gently through his hair.

“Yes,” he agrees.

Charles licks the skin of Erik’s shoulder before closing his eyes. He tastes familiar already, like coming home.


	2. the time charles is on top

THE TIME CHARLES IS ON TOP

“Can you—would you—Charles, _make me_ \--”

And Charles has to groan and lean forward to bite at Erik’s upper lip, lick over the scar there and suck, feel the tickle of air as Erik pants through his nose. He skates his lips over Erik’s cheekbone, skin dragging as he forms words, so very inefficient but more _physical_ , hotter and harder and gravely, as he pushes his hips forwards and grinds them both down onto the mattress. Erik keens.

“Do you want that?” Charles knows that his pupils are blown wide, larger than should be possible, the power in his mind aching to spill out. “Do you want me to do that, trust me with that, with all that you are—”

 _All that we could be together, oh, oh_ Erik—

“Please,” Erik gasps out, arching, hands clenching tight around Charles’ hips. “Yes, yes, I want it, _bitte_ , please!”

 _Quiet,_ Charles projects, even has he murmurs a reply: “Since you ask so nicely.”

Erik falls silent with one last moan. Now the only sounds are of their harsh breathing, the rustling of sheets and sticky wet sounds of skin on skin. Erik’s mind grows richer with desperation every second Charles makes him stay quiet, a constant _please Charles more Charles pleasepleasepleasemove_ and it’s the most beautiful thing he has ever felt; he wants to immerse himself in it and pull Erik in closer and tangle them together until neither can ever be separated.

Charles doesn’t think to restrict Erik’s movements, so he’s a little bit surprised when fingers skate their way down his spine, past his tailbone to brush over his hole. He grunts and jerks forward and oh, Erik is feeling smug, his face and mind are both full of it, and Charles bites down on Erik’s collarbone in retaliation. Erik’s head tips back and he pushes his chest up into the bite, pain a perfect bright point of sensation in both their minds. 

Then Erik flips them both, rolling so that he’s on top. His leg is between Charles’ own, and he grinds down on Charles’ thigh even as he presses up with his knee. Charles makes an embarrassing noise at the pressure on his balls.

 _Cheeky,_ Charles thinks as he sucks a mark on Erik’s neck just above his adam’s apple, feeling the skin beneath his tongue vibrate as Erik holds in his moan.

“I should punish you for that,” he breathes on the wet spot left by his mouth, savoring Erik’s shiver. He shakes his head, almost a convulsive movement, but Charles feels the acquiescence hidden deep. Erik will let Charles do anything to him, anything at all. It’s heady, perfect trust, all the better because Charles will never abuse it. Could never.

 _Turn around, love,_ , he sends. _Sounds are fine, but no words._

Erik makes a frustrated noise as he does as ordered. Charles is no longer sure what he’s Pushing and what is just Erik, but Erik’s mind is still eager, open and hungry and _wanting_ , and he imagines that the two of them can break through every boundary, go further than either of them has ever imagined, if only they do it together.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by this post on tumblr.

When Erik comes out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, Charles is still knocked out on the bed. He hasn’t shifted at all, flat on his stomach with a leg and arm up, hand curled under the pillowcase.

He murmurs indistinctly when Erik paces over to brush fingers over the curve of his cheek, down his jaw to the soft curve of his mouth. As Erik kneels, the shadows shift; Charles licks his lower lip, a slow drag of tongue, innocent but for the way it wets his mouth and highlights how red it is. How red Erik _made_ it, by biting and sucking and kissing Charles the night before, and Erik has to nudge at Charles’ chin, tilt his head up, press his thumb into the sweet dip of Charles’ lower lip until it rests gently against his teeth.

Charles’ brow furrows lightly, lips parting like he concentrating, exactly the same expression on his face as when Erik bends his head down to lick around his nipple, hand around his cock. He takes a deep lungful of air, surprised at the effort it takes. Even asleep Charles can ruin him. Figures.

 _Erik?_ Charles’ voice is sleepy, and it takes him longer than it should to realize that the voice he hears is only in his head. _Oh…_

The breathy little moan makes Erik press his hips into the side of the mattress, nowhere near enough. Charles turns his head to nuzzle into the pillow and his lip pulls across the ball of Erik’s thumb, slipping free with a soft, wet sound.

That is _it_. Erik spends another half-second staring at the shine on his finger, on Charles’ mouth, and then he’s dragging in a breath so deep it’s almost a moan, tangling his hands in Charles’ hair and capturing those tempting lips with his own, kissing the other man awake. 

At first Charles doesn’t respond at all, just goes along with anything Erik does, pliant and easy – it makes him burn with heat but he pushes it back for later, because right now he wants Charles as an active participant. Then Charles’ throat vibrates in a sub vocal groan and he kisses back, presses forward, sleepily eager. They kiss for a long time before Charles’ eyes slit open.

 _Erik_ , Charles thinks at him, and the feelings that trail along with his name are enough to have him straddle the other man on top of the blankets and pant harshly through his nose. He licks behind Charles’ teeth and sucks on his top lip; Charles tips his head back and arches.

 _Please_ , Charles gasps, and Erik thrusts down with a gasp. _I want--_

“What do you want,” Erik grinds out, the words slurred, muffled as Charles swallows them.

 _This._ Charles projects a hungry image of himself between Erik’s legs, head down and a hand tight in his curls, heavy weight on his tongue and pushing at the back of his throat. Erik’s arms nearly give out.

He shifts upwards on the bed, towel a distant memory lying crumpled on the floor. Charles squirms, trapped by the blanket; he has only one arm free, and Erik pins that above his head with a hand around his wrist.

Charles cranes his neck forward, the only thing he can do – Erik is sitting on his shoulders, knees bracketing his upper arms and cock just out of reach of those parted lips. Erik wants to hear Charles beg, see the curve of his mouth around sobbed, breathless vowels of _please_ and _Erik_ and _more_. Wants Charles out of his mind, as he drives Erik out of his.

“Slowly,” he whispers as Charles hitches in a breath and closes his eyes tight, whining and straining toward him. “Sh, Charles, slow…”

And then Charles lips are on the head of his cock, light, still not close enough to go any deeper, but he’s extending his tongue to wriggle in the slit and _fuck_ that’s good, _too_ good when Erik feels like he’s been on the edge for hours, no matter that it’s only been minutes, and he has to hold tight on the base of his cock and curl forwards with a grunt to stop from coming much too early.

Erik can feel Charles’ smugness, underlain with molten heat. He thrusts forward almost involuntarily, just a short hitch of hips, and Charles opens for him with a moan.

Erik’s tenuous control snaps. He shoves into Charles’ mouth, a long smooth glide until he can feel the flutter of Charles’ throat along the head and holds, panting, squeezing his eyes shut. Charles nearly chokes but he recovers and _swallows_ around Erik, repeatedly, and Erik makes a noise like he’s dying and pulls back, strips the covers off the other man and turns around so his face is level with his navel.

“What,” says Charles, voice wrecked and hoarse. “Erik?”

In reply he just kisses the skin of Charles’ belly, breathes on the thin trail of hair there and follows it down. Charles spreads his legs eagerly as Erik’s fingertips skate under the thin pajama bottoms he’s wearing – no underwear, and that knowledge makes his cock throb. Charles apparently notices because he makes a quick bitten-off noise and grasps Erik’s hips, pulling him down again.

Erik buries his face in the fabric of Charles’ pants to muffle his moan, but that just makes _Charles_ moan, and the vibrations nearly do him in. It’s like an infinite feedback loop, his pleasure setting of Charles’ and back again, and the only thing Erik can do now is pull Charles’ pajamas down past his hips and wrap his mouth around Charles’ (god, gorgeous) cock.

The effect is immediate. Charles stiffens and arches with a muffled cry, coming in long, thick bursts; Erik isn’t ready, not really, and as he pulls back semen stripes along his lips and cheek, one last pulse catching him on the upper chest. He barely notices, caught as he is in the throes of his own orgasm, Charles’ pleasure and the way the other man’s throat constricts around him pushing him over the edge. Charles swallows and licks and sucks until Erik’s hips are twitching feebly from overstimulation, cheek pillowed on Charles’ thigh and mouth open as he pants.

“I-- _augh_ , Charles, stop—“

Charles makes an inquiring noise but does, letting Erik free with a wet, slick sound. Erik shivers.

 _Up,_ Charles urges, tugging at Erik’s hips. Erik turns so that their faces are level, collapsing boneless next to him on the mattress.

“ _Leibling,_ ” Erik murmurs, sappy as he wouldn’t be when he isn’t pumped full of endorphins. “Good morning.”

“Morning,” Charles replies, and clears his throat. Erik feels deservedly smug about that. “That was quite a wake-up call.”

His eyes are fixed on the corner of Erik’s mouth, and Erik frowns before realizing that he never cleaned off his face after Charles came. He darts his tongue out and smirks when Charles breathes in sharply, chuckling when Charles surges forward to bring their lips together. Charles kisses like he’s still starving for it, like he didn’t just have a spectacular orgasm, licking around Erik’s lips and up his jaw to swipe at a cheekbone, chasing the taste of his own come on Erik’s skin.

Erik hisses out a breath.

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, because Charles is, he really is.

“You’re going to need another shower,” Charles retorts.

The worst thing is about it is that it’s true, so Erik can’t even argue.

“Are you going to join me?” he asks instead, and smiles as Charles’ eyes darken.


End file.
